I didn’t realize how many streets I had passed to get to my meeting today, but as I walk through the fifteenth residential block, I realize how far I truly wandered today. No wonder I got jumped by a bunch of thugs. This deal took me outside of my jurisdiction. Hopefully, as the ice thaws, my normal contractors will be resuming operations, but until then, I’ll have to make do with what I have. Right now, what I have for contracts amounts to a lump of shit. The midday sun showers the street with all the lovely radiation that the human world could ever need, but it might as well be a curse for someone like me. I hate the way the sun makes my eyes water even when I’m not looking at it. I hate how taking a step outside without sunglasses becomes the equivalent of getting hit by a flashbang on repeat every time I open my eyes. As I pass yet another set of residential buildings, my house finally comes into view in a sense. Among the identical painted, two-story houses sits a gap where there is nothing in sight. That remains the single best way to tell where the house is aside from memorizing the street name. I use that explanation to tell any high priority clientele how to get to my house.
Despite the fact that my house is close, my stomach sits taught and a cold sweat runs down my neck. I look down at my hands, small blood droplets coating both of my palms. That’s a big part of the struggle I face every day. When each fingertip is capable of cutting through flesh like a knife, it gets harder and harder to be patient with people when they’re being a dick. My little stunt earlier might be ignored by a large portion of the companies I work with, but I will lose a few good ones because who wouldn’t be afraid of a woman who can kick the shit out of multiple people at the same time and has monstrous claws. They were all relatively weak for bodyguards, but the point still remains. Once word gets out, it’ll be much harder to live a more inconspicuous life. It might just be impossible, especially if I get caught drinking from someone. I turn left without any second thoughts, walking up the sidewalk to my house. A strong gust of wind blows, snatching away my attention for a brief moment as I reach for the front door. I turn the knob, pushing the door in and slamming it shut behind me.
“You know, department stores have such a splendid repository of useful trinkets! The lights are quite obnoxious, but I dare say they are much less agonizing than the sun,” Friedrich says.
The older vampire sits in the chair that is nestled in a corner to the right of my couch. His feet are propped up on the living room stable, and he is tinkering with some mechanism. Parts lay strewn all over the table, screws and springs littering the floor below him. His glasses rest on the edge of his nose like a grandpa’s would. Honestly, he reminds me of my grandpa who’s probably dead now that I think about it. He wasn’t in good health when I died…
“Friedrich, did you buy all the supplies on the list?”
“Indeed, Fraulein. I am grateful that you granted a humble servant an allowance. I was able to buy several inexpensive materials with funds to spare.”
I unzip my jacket, throwing my coat onto the rack beside me. Kicking off my boots, I walk into the kitchen and reach into the refrigerator. I snatch out a chocolate bar, slicing open the wrapper with my nails. I make my way back to the couch, biting a chunk out of the chocolate bar. My stomach rumbles a little as I chew the sweet confectionery. Chocolate remains one of the few human foods that I can eat and feel normal. Most meals end up leading to some rather adverse effects.
“I have more parts for you to use in my closets, including a bunch of scraped computer towers and motherboards that I found a while back.”
“If you’re graciousness is willing to grant them to me, I would be honored to accept them.”
“Friedrich, I’m fine if this is how you normally talk, but if this is a performance, can you please stop?” I say.
“Unfortunately, Fraulein, I have spoken like this for the last two hundred years. However, I’m not averse to adjusting my linguistics for the modern era. This I believe sounds more like someone of this day and age, correct? Friedrich says.
“Yes, that is so much better than before. Honestly, I was going to lose my mind if you kept that up,” I say, taking another bite out of the chocolate bar. “Anyways, has anyone ever told you that you look like a grandpa?”
“No, Frau Alirelli. I doubt anyone noticed how old-fashioned I am in my home because everyone back home still dresses as though the Russian state is still a monarchy. What kind of remark is that? That would be like me commenting that the bags under your eyes are showing more than yesterday.”
“Wait, are there bags under my eyes?”
“No, you’re a vampire, girl! You look just as youthful as you did the day before! Do you see my argument here?”
A lump forms in the back of my throat, but I stare the man dead in the eyes. Friedrich scoffs, returning back to his work of twisting screws and tightening springs.
“You young vampires are obnoxious, you know that, right?” the vampire says.
“Yes, I am well aware of your point. I was obnoxious in my school years as well.”
“Yes, that tracks, doesn’t it.”
The room is quite chilly today, but otherwise nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. The curtains remain just as dark as they always are, blotting out the sun enough to keep the room nice and dim. The tv screen sits dark and motionless, the deafening silence filling the empty atmosphere of the living room.
“Since you’re such a youthful, inexperienced little lamb, did someone end up killing you? Is that how you became a vampire?” Friedrich whispers.
Goosebumps come crashing over my skin, raw tension racing through me like electricity through a wire. The sun’s light reaching into the living room, its obnoxious yellow-orange glow reaching into my house like tendrils. As the darkness drags against the sun’s light, it sweeps up and down my spine. My body shudders as the darkness around me wraps around my wrists, pulling me on each of my fingernails until my claws stretch out.
“Why are you looking at me like that? Did I say something wrong?” the older vampire sighs.
As I twist my head in a tenth of a second, my gaze falls onto the undead creature sitting in the chair. I press my claws onto the creature’s chin, each second pressing a little more into the delicate tension. An image of a neon city flashes before my eyes, the faint scent of Vietnamese food in the air. My skin still aglow with the light of life, blood still pumping through my veins. The scene burns away, leaving me standing with my claws clutching Friedrich’s chin, each fiber of my muscles tight. Oh shit! I release my grip, taking a few steps back and sitting back down on the couch. I stare down at my claws, the razors gleaming in the dark.
“So, I’m going to assume I touched on a rather delicate subject. How about I give you some time for yourself. That sound good to you?” Friedrich says, dropping all of his gadgets. “If you decide you’d like to talk about what happened that night, I will always be a willing audience.”
As the older vampire starts to leave, I look him in his crimson eyes and something in them shifts. He lingers for a brief moment, opening his mouth as if to speak before disappearing into the black depths of the hallway, leaving me with the dark just as it was on that fateful night. My fingernails revert to their more human form, taking the shape of bright white acrylic nails. Outside of that night, Friedrich is the first vampire I have met, and the only person to treat me with some semblance of compassion that knows me. And I just snapped at the man for asking about my death…
I’ve snapped at people for worse things before, but this pain is rawer than anything else. Guilt would be the closest emotion to describe this feeling though it runs deeper than that. I’ve noticed that since I became a vampire, it was like I re-entered the early years of high school. If anything, my new life is like being a timebomb that is permanently set to two seconds. Not even my darkest impulses are spared from this hair trigger. I wish I could say that a psychological profile would be helpful, but they would stop examining me as soon as I mention drinking some random person’s blood using their neck as a straw. Then again, I don’t remember anyone saying anything about vampires unless they were used as a children’s tale to scare little kids into behaving. Is there a hierarchy for the secret vampire society? Friedrich mentioned he was a servant to a noble house.
The darkness of the room surrounds me once more, though this time I find myself in the living room all alone. If a word existed to describe these emotions, it would be hollow. In this darkness, I lift my hands and wave them to the side. Out the corner of my eye, I spot a shadow waving behind the chair. When I move my hand once again, the shadow follows my hand and cuts through the light. I look around the room, red whisps emanating from every object. I stand up from the chair, summoning all the strength within my body and funneling the energy out. I lift my right hand, one of the boxes of tools and gadgets floats up into the air, moving according to my whims. As I reach out my left hand, the tv remote surges straight toward my hands, breaking into a hundred pieces. Damn it, that’s the only remote I have. I thrust my left hand toward the tv, flooding it with the red whisps until the screen flashes to life. Energy flickers around my body, red whisps streaking down my arms. While I plunge the last of my strength into the tv, the screen dies. The boxes plummet to the ground, a cacophony of shrill metallic clangs rattling all at once. Mere moments later, I’m lying on the floor, every single vein burning all throughout my body. Each breath becomes a herculean effort, my diaphragm quivering and quaking just for a gasp. Another burst of agonizing pain scorches my nerves as I reach for the red wisps once more. Even my vision darkens with the waning of my newfound power.
“I’m honestly surprised this is happening so soon,” Friedrich yelps, “Fraulein, you shouldn’t use your gift so frivolously! Your very existence is at stake!!!”
Friedrich rushes into the living room, scooping me up in his arms and running me to my bedroom. He lays me on my bed, pressing his hands on my forehead. However, my strength fails me, and I fall deep into a black abyss, an abyss that drags me down with its cold, slimy hands. I stretch my arms up toward a fading light as I descend into the bubbling inky black sea. I close my eyes and find myself in a dark, dreary place standing on my feet. Everywhere I look I find an alien-like landscape. Coral plants sprouting from large deep violet rocks, blood trickles from stalactites up above and fills the otherwise deafening silence. Beyond me sits a statue of a man wrapped in chains and a woman holding the chains like horse reigns. When I try to move my hands, nothing moves at all. Instead, I look down, finding myself bound in the same chains as the statue. I drag my eyes back up from myself, finding the woman looking me in the eyes.
“Aren’t you a special little thing? You must be one of mine,” the woman says.
She places a finger on my forehead, pressing down just a little. Energy floods my flesh; red tattoos flow down my arms and illuminate the area around us. The chains disintegrate into a trail of red dust, and I rise to my feet. Upon closer inspection, I realize that the woman and I look so very similar to one another, though she has short black hair with a white accent on both her bangs. Her clothes are shamanistic, almost reminiscent of an ancient age. She reminds me of a vampire, but the color in her flesh is definitively human. No vampire could ever retain such color in their flesh, not even after drinking a mortal dry.
“Well, little one. It’s time for you to go back, your friend probably thinks you are dead. I’d hate for him to do something risky to you.”
~
I open my eyes and shoot upright; my violet blankets wrapped around my mid-section tighter than I’d like. I yank my arms out from the blanket, and I’m in long sleeves. I wasn’t wearing long sleeves when I passed out, was I? I roll up my sleeves and scowl at the red lines running up my veins and arteries. I look over at my bookshelf, and the entire piece of furniture is glowing red. I lift one of my fingers, curling it back towards me. A book rises from the shelf and floats towards me. It lands on my lap and falls flat, opening to a page. I scan the pages, and the text rises up into the air in front of me. Glyphs race around, placing themselves until the text falls into order in a way I can read. Why do experts think that vampires come from a singular ancestor? I thought people assumed that vampires were beings that made a contract with demons in Hell. And what the hell are Ancient Vampires? What makes them so powerful aside from being incredibly old? This power, while not an everyday experience, has become like an extension of my will. I see these red hues everywhere in damn near everything. The only notable exceptions are the rocks and the crystal lamp sitting on my nightstand. I close the book, leaping out from my bed. I walk through the hallway, entering the kitchen. Friedrich sits at the dining room table reading the newspaper once again, though his legs are crossed this time. Despite Friedrich being a dead vampire, there is a red outline around him as well. I grab a cup of coffee from the cabinet, pouring the viscous black liquid into the cup.
I must’ve been on autopilot for a brief moment because I finished making my coffee without realizing it. The aroma of smoke fills my nostrils as I walk into the living room. I take a seat on my couch not too far from the fireplace, which burns with gentle heat that encompasses the entire room. The recent killings are likely to be on the news by now, so I pull out my phone. Scrolling through news stories, I find several details about planned construction sites, the mayor signing off on the new security force, and a lot of other things like school pay cuts. Wait, what was that about a new security force? I open the link, reading over the story. Shit, things are about to get very messy soon.
“Friedrich, we might have a problem!”
“Did you hear about that new task force? They are going to be quite the nuisance for the mobsters and killers in the streets! I just can’t wait to see one of them in action!”
“Friedrich, you do realize that the task force will likely find us very suspicious, right?”
Friedrich pauses for a moment, taking another look at his newspaper and reading the article once again. His brows furrow as he scans the text, his eyes narrowing as he glares holes through the page. Friedrich slams the newspaper on the table, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles go white, except they’re always white. Well, whiter than they normally are. The old vampire glares at me, though it seems more that he’s staring through me than anything else.
“You can’t be serious? They think we’re the monsters murdering people in the street!” Friedrich says.
“Um… Friedrich, didn’t you drink a man dry a few days ago?”
“Well, yes, I did, but that doesn’t count!”
Friedrich squirms a little in his seat, tugging at his collar. I throw my hands in the air and turn around, walking back towards my refrigerator. I yank out a bag of blood so cold that one would be forgiven for thinking that it came from a frozen corpse. I sink my fags into the bag, immediately regretting the action as cold chills hit my stomach. I guzzle down the blood like a famished person might devour soup. I wipe my lips with my sleeve before turning to face my colleague.
“Most mortals would say otherwise. Plus, didn’t you say that mortals would agree to be drank in your castle?”
“Yes, mortals like to offer themselves to us, but we don’t kill them. It’s kind of like how cows are used to give milk, except we don’t degrade them by calling them livestock,” the older vampire says. “We still treat them as sentient beings that deserve respect.”
“So, you’re saying that most people you’ve drank from since you’ve arrived were drained without their consent?”
“Yes. You could say that.”
“So, then you and I are both murderous monsters in the eyes of mortals. That means we are part of the scope of this new task force.”
“I suppose I figured that this world would have grown beyond such monikers in two hundred years or so, but perhaps I’m still too naïve. What I wouldn’t do to live in the eighteenth century again.”
“You mean the time with rampant racism, enslavement, and women continuously suffering the egos of power-hungry men?”
“There were many people like that, but the eighteenth century had many wonders. The nights were beautiful, the opera halls were the height of culture, and the horse-drawn carriages were so romantic.”
Friedrich sits in his chair, staring off into the distance. His eyes have a brightness to them that I’ve never seen before. Friedrich mutters to himself under his breath, tapping his foot on the floor. It could just be dementia setting in. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was. I throw my cloak on and head outside. Nothing could prepare my eyes for the sunlight reflecting off the ice and snow. I snatch my sunglasses from my pocket, throwing them on. It’s too bad that the light is still debilitating even with the best sunglasses money can buy. I suppose vampire eyes aren’t made for sunlight. Who would have guessed that? Has Friedrich ever complained about sunlight while walking about? Then again, he doesn’t have blue eyes like me. Friedrich has red eyes like the vampire who killed me. After a few minutes of trudging through the snow, I emerge into central square. Hundreds of people line the streets, many staring at their phones with unblinking eyes. If people paid more attention, they might just notice my glowing eyes behind these sunglasses. It’s too bad that most people are stuck staring in their own little dimensions. I could charm them into turning their eyes from their phones. Maybe take them out for a night, but most people have nothing interesting going on. They are all like me. Just trying to get by in a world that doesn’t give a fuck about us.
Every building looks the exact same in central square. All the people wander with faint red embers trailing behind them. I wish I could say that the outlines were blood trails, but they aren’t. I can smell the blood in the air, mixing in with the scent of sulfur and snow. This city always smells so bad. Why the hell am I even still here? The only good thing that comes with this city is the anonymity, and Friedrich just ruined it all. All hope is not lost though. I have connections that will exert my influence over this new task force before it even takes off. I slip into a darkened alleyway, stepping over a homeless person as he embraces his lover. With every footstep, the alley grows tighter and tighter until I have to walk sideways with my back against the wall. I press my hands against the stone walls, sliding through the cramped confines until it gives way to a metal doorway. I knock on the door, the hollow reverberations buzzing inside my ears much longer than I’d prefer. A small slide opens in the door and two eyes peer through.
“We don’t serve the homeless nor do we give humanitarian aid. If you have an issue with that, you can talk to my boss or his overseer!” the watchman hisses.
“Now darling I’m willing to forgive you for your oversight. However, is that any way for you to speak to the patron of this establishment?”
I pull down my sunglasses, revealing my eyes. The watchman’s eyes widen as he stumbles backwards, stuttering out a bunch of nonsense as gears whir and bolts clank into place. He peels the door open, and I step inside. The entrance is lit by a cool dim light just like I ordered. The stairs down into the basement are brighter, but nothing compared to fluorescent lights. The watchman closes the door behind me, before returning to his post.
“Thank you, your graciousness. How might I ever repay you for your generosity?”
I look the man dead in the eyes, probing them for any insincerity. Fortunately for him, I somehow have managed to find an earnest man working in an underground criminal network. That’s not something I had on my bingo card for this trip.
“You don’t need to pay me back. Just focus on doing your job to best of your ability. Otherwise, I’ll have your boss deduct your pay,” I sigh.
I slip the man a thumbs up before heading down to the basement. I hear the blaring EDM music before I make it down the second set of stairs. I’m berated by the scent of sweat as I enter the den. Several tables lay among the disheveled furniture and the bar. I hear the cards flipping in the dealer’s hands as a group of four play poker at one of the tables. I walk through the den, heading straight towards the boss’s office. My footsteps fall light and efficient, yet everyone I pass notices me walking by. Each person hums with fierce glowing red embers. Once I reach the office, everyone’s eyes are on me.
“Easy there, I have business with your boss. I don’t have a bone to pick with any of you,” I say.
The crew returns to their usual activities, except for the barkeeper. That barkeeper’s reeks of sweat and alcohol, but his heartrate remains steady. I should keep an eye on him when I leave. He reeks of a police plant. I enter the office, finding the boss sitting at his desk like usual. He’s been flipping through his magazine for quite some time from what I can tell, but I smell the intent behind his appearance. I know exactly what kind of swindler this client of mine is. He’s a serpent bent on creating his ideal world, but I won’t let that happen, not on my watch. This conniving bastard’s goes by Scales, but that’s just a nickname he gave himself a while ago. I forgot this shit-eater’s real name a long time ago. However, the poor sod has his uses, so I keep him in charge of this place. I wish I could find a replacement, but the criminal world doesn’t have very many qualified applicants for running a prosperous business.
“What can I do for you today, Scales? You’ve managed to at least peak my curiosity a little bit,” I sigh.
“Madam Alirelli, I imagine that you’ll find my information quite valuable, so much so that you’ll be dying to know what I know,” Scales replies.
“Oh really, who’s to say that I can’t just find your information elsewhere. I have plenty of informants just like you all throughout the streets. I’m fairly certain one of them has at least a glint of the information you have, Scales. Why do I need you?”
The young man stares me down, his tough grimace flickering just a touch. Such determination is rare coming from this spineless bastard, so I slide a couple hundred dollars across the table. Scales stares at the money, taking a furtive glance at me before snatching the money from the table. I take a deep breath in as Scales’ scent shifts toward a sickly-sweet aroma, confidence.
“So, a few little birds were chirping at the harbor about some new gang that arrived a week ago. They’ve built up quite the enterprise within the city, so much so that the city’s new surveillance team has designated them a priority target,” Scales whispers.
I rake my fingers through the tips of my hair. Despite my unease, my gaze remains cold and unmoving, even sending a ripple through Scales’ confidence. I sigh, taking a seat in the chair across from this crime boss. “Have your snakelets seen anyone from this mysterious new gang?”
“Well, Miss Alirelli, one of my informants said they have a rather unusual appearance. He said that the members he’s seen all have ruby eyes that shimmer in the right light, and there is an ethereal grace to the way they move. They kind of remind me of you in a way,” Scales says. “However, I believe you have a stronger appeal than any of them could ever achieve, plus you don’t have the same crimson eyes.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere Scales, but I suppose I owe you a payment, don’t I?” I reach into my jacket and pull out another thousand dollars, slapping the cash onto the table. Scales reclines in his chair, returning to his magazine. Now, the young man reeks of the sour scent of egotism, but I can’t argue too much about his results. Today he did well. Better than I expected to be honest. Yeah, something shifts in the air as I open the door from his office.
“Do keep yourself safe, Scales. You just climbed up a lot of ranks on my personnel ladder. I’ll get in touch soon about more jobs I need you to run,” I say.
“I’ll keep out of danger, Madam Alirelli. I’m a snake after all. I know how to hide in plain sight.”
I shut the office door behind me, letting out a shallow sigh. Finally. I was starting to wonder if that jackass really wanted to keep talking to me. As I exit the den, the same barkeeper stares me down once more. So, I stare back, grimacing just enough to hide my fangs behind my lips. Despite his eternal gaze, the barkeeper doesn’t make any sudden moves. My claws protract as goosebumps wash over my skin, my gaze falling upon the rest of the people in the den. Red hazes illuminating everyone and everything with any semblance of life, wafting through the air like flames flickering feverishly in the wind. Yet when I close my eyes, the red haze vanishes. A dull throbbing knocks on my skull as I leave, reminding me of my hunger spells as a kid. I sprint passed the guard, swerving my way through the crowds while day fades to dusk.
I spent too much time in that gambler’s den. I thought I left around midday, so how is it already sundown? The day has faded faster than I’d have liked, but I can’t relent just yet. Where would these new vampires come from? Friedrich might have some answers for me. Where the hell did I send him today? What schemes do I have to implement to retain my network? Why am I so damn hungry again? I dart through the streets, bumping into people as I tear through the streets. Neon signs spark to life as the sun tumbles below the horizon, taking its abhorrent UV rays with it. Ferran City is busy on a good night, but with the curfews in place people are taking less chances of going out. A cold breeze funnels through the streets, scattering snowflakes like flower petals off the spring trees. The only thing that could make this day better is if it was Spring. At least if it were Spring, I’d be warmer and wouldn’t be facing the threat of frostbite.
Once I reach the central plaza of the pier, an odd scent fills my nose. It smells more human than not, but I can’t pinpoint the specifics of it. However, I find it curious because the scent is trailing me and has been doing so for at least a few minutes now. The figure’s scent grows stronger and stronger as I spin around, hoping to find this strange mortal at any point. The scent floods the air as I follow the trail up to the rooftops above. That when I see him. A middle-aged man cloaked in Victorian era gothic hunter’s equipment all the way down to the boots. A sudden jolt rushes through my system as a realization drops my heart into my stomach. Someone in the order has found me.
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